Draco was dreaming again. Dreaming of her. She'd been picked up in a raid, dragged from her bed in the dead of night. She'd looked only about eight years old, yet she hadn't screamed or cried, but she wouldn't stop trying to get away. She fought and she clawed at Bellatrix as his aunt held her down. Dumbledore had just been killed and that was when Draco's initial doubts had began to brew. This little girl, this little Muggle-born girl was braver than even him, an adult with magic. He remembered, remembered Bellatrix leaving the room, how he'd cast a Muffilato and kneeled on the green carpet beside her, the one he'd learned to walk on, had read countless books and rode brooms on. How she'd seemed so fragile, like his mother's best china, yet she'd had a will of steel. In that moment, Draco had been acutely aware of how much she reminded him of Granger when she was younger, that brash defiance in the face of adversity.

Tentatively, the girls hand moved across the carpet, their fingers barely touching.

"Why do you look so sad?" she whispered.

"Because I can't help you," he replied hoarsely.

"I know. I'm sad too. I'm sad that I had to watch my parents die, that I've had friends who died. I'm sad that there's things I'll never be able to do. I'm sad I won't see the end of You-Know-Who. I'm sad that you'll have to watch. They'll make you watch, won't they?"

Draco nodded.

"I'm Emma," she told him.

"My name's Draco."

"Your parents like dragons?"

Draco smiled, a sad and broken thing. "No, it's a family tradition. I like dragons though. If things are bad, they can just fly away."

"I like dragons too. And flying is cool, but you can't fly away from everything. You have to stay and put things right if things are wrong."

After a lengthy pause she asked him, "Will what she does hurt?"

He couldn't voice the words so he just nodded.

"I thought so. So, Draco, if I can call you Draco, can you do something for me? Can you help me do something?"

Draco exploded awake, heart hammering at a hundred miles an hour. Sweat clung to him like a second skin and it took all he had not to scream, not to cry. This was the third night of the dream, this same dream. He hadn't had one in weeks. It seemed that the incident at Hogsmeade had brought the thoughts to the forefront of his mind, not that they ever entirely left. He checked his watch on the bedside table, unsurprised to see that it wasn't even one in the morning. Deeming sleep a lost cause, Draco shucked off his T-shirt and pyjama bottoms, pulling on a light seater and a robe. He sat in front of his bookcase in his own room -McGonagall had been kind enough to give him his own separate room, away from the rest of his house. He ran his fingers over the spines, savoring the paper and leather and the reassuring thump of his fingertips.

So, this was to be his life. Haunted by memories, seen a villain for every mis-step. Despite Hermione telling those that asked her that what happened had not been what people thought, the past three days had not been what one would call pleasant. Name's and spells and some imaginative hexes. But what was infinitely worse was what people were doing to Hermione. She'd held the first Inter-House Committee Meeting only yesterday, and no one had turned up except Luna, and himself hidden artfully in the corner. People were calling her a traitor, an insult to their fellow wizards who had died because of the likes of him and his father. Not that that could ever stop her.

In one fluid motion, Draco got up, grabbing his wand and casting a Disillusionment Charm. The irony was not lost on him. He wandered with no real destination in mind, unsurprised when he found himself at the base of the Astronomy Tower, staring at the memorial the students had made at it's base. Going around a corner, he bumped into solid air. The air soon solidified and became a door, a brass handle that had not been there before materializing. Draco gripped it and went inside.

It was dark, but not an unwelcome and impressive black, but calm, serene. Small lights glowed in clusters like fireflies, encrusting the ceiling and gaps in the scrolling stonework that glittered on the walls. The space was bare except for a fountain, a basket, some comfy looking cushions and pillows and blankets, and Luna Lovegood.

"Hello, Draco," she said. "Rough sleep?"

"Yeah, it wasn't stellar."

"I get bad dreams too. But not like I used to."

"What is this place?"

"It was Hermione's idea," Luna explained, rising from her perch on the rim of the bubbling fountain, "but I helped a little. It's a Reflection Pool. We talked about it after you left the meeting. We thought it would be nice if people had a place yet could go when they need to be alone, or to remember or forget for a while. While we could have used the Room of Requirement, anyone can go in there, and Hermione wanted something more secluded. It's warded so that you can see who is outside, and feel their intent. Then you can let them in. The wards are built with sensors that can sense the aura of your magic. I'm quite pleased with how it turned out. I'm glad the Headmistress approved."

Draco smiled and flopped onto a pile of cushions, head resting against the lip of the fountain. Surprisingly, the stone didn't dig in. It seemed the two had thought of everything.

"I think it's great, Luna. You should be proud."

"Thank you, Draco. So, do you want to share what's bothering you so much?"

"I don't want to upset you," he told her.

"That's fair enough, but I think you're also not quite ready to share, which is fair too. I'm sorry about what people have been saying. I know it can't be easy. People make fun of me for being strange."

"I don't think you're strange."

"No, it's quite alright. It's good to be strange, to be different. I like that I'm not like everybody else, that I don't always fit in. It means I have a unique perspective that others don't always see. Like you, for example. I can see that you're hurting, when to other people it wouldn't be so obvious. You had to do terrible things for the sake of your family, didn't you? I don't know if you know this, but Harry, Ron and Hermione were captured because of my dad. He sold them out because I was at the Manor. Afterwards, I was angry, angry that they'd been hurt, especially Hermione. That Dobby was dead. But after a while, I began to understand. My dad was scared, and didn't have many options. He did what he thought was right for me. It might not have been right for everyone else, but I might not be alive if he hadn't. We all make choices Draco, and we all have to live with what happens next because of those choices, the people it affects. You were in an impossible situation, and despite what people are tormenting you for, I think a lot of those people would have made similar choices to protect their own loved ones. Hypocrisy exists in any and every society, apparently."

"Indeed."

"You really like Hermione, don't you?"

"She's my best friend."

"It's strange, I always thought you two would make good friends if you discovered your true nature, that you weren't going to fit in that Pureblood mold you were forced into. Some people are like that. No matter how much they squeeze, not all shoes fit. Like Cinderella."

"Cinder-who?"

"It's a Muggle fairy tale. Her stepsisters cut off parts of their feet to fit into a glass slipper to marry the prince, who will only marry the maiden whose foot fits inside. There's a pumpkin and mice, too, and a fairy godmother."

"Sounds thrilling."

"I wonder if the prince would have gone to so much trouble if Cinderella had not been pretty, since she was the one who lost the slipper at the ball were they met, and he keeps it."

"Sounds like someone had a shoe fetish. What kid would want to read about that?"

"It's a classic, apparently. I like to think that Cinderella would have made a better life for herself if given the chance, rather than be swept off her feet by some guy she only spent a few hours with. You can't base a relationship off of superficiality. You need history, chemistry, challenge and acceptance. Like you and Hermione. You balance each other, and encourage the best parts in each other while accepting the bad."

"What could possibly be bad about Hermione?"

"Some people think she's obsessive, boring, that she thinks she's smarter than everyone else."

"She is smarter than everyone else, especially if we're talking about the academic field."

"There are lots of different smarts. People get intimidated because they think that smart people look down on those not quite like them. But we don't. I think Hermione only wants to use her intellect to help, and people are too proud and therefore take it the wrong way, which hurts sometimes."

"That sounds about right," he drawled good-naturedly.

"The same goes for you, I just don't think you've found the proper channel for it yet, but you will. You understand each other's music, which is very rare."

"I get what you're trying to tell me, Luna."

"Excellent. But if you do really go back to how you used to be, or hurt Hermione in any way, I will hex you, and get Ginny to join in. I believe you still remember her proficiency with the Bat-Bogey Hex?"

"I do."

"Right. Do you want a stone?" she offered, setting the basket down beside him.

"I don't remember quartz being edible."

"It's for the pool, silly dragon. If you remove the memory or thought it feeling from your mind and transfer it into the stone, it won't be so heavy. Since all memories are important, even the bad ones, it's only a symbolic gesture of getting rid of the weight on you."

After a breath, Draco picked one up. "I suppose it couldn't hurt."

The one he chose was oval and slightly textured, with flecks of green and silver. How very appropriate. He thought about Emma, what he'd had to do and what she had endured. The wizards and witches after her who he had not been able to save, only watch and vow not to forget them, all he could offer them at the time. Turning his back on his legacy, the uncertainty of his future ad what kind of person he would be, who he wanted to be. What he would do to make the most of his second chance.

Draco dropped the stone into the pool, the splash silent.

"The foundation of something great starts with one brick. Maybe this will be the start of something, too."

"I'd like that."

"You know, I think it's very brave, what you're doing. Coming back here, your friendship with Hermione. You could have been a Gryffindor."

Draco laughed, bright and silvery. "Come now, Luna. Let's not say things we don't mean. There's no chance I could pull of red and gold with this hair."

"I think Gryffindor and Slytherin are more alike than they care to admit, which is why they fight so much."

"Like the Montagues and the Capulets."

"Since when do the Sacred Twenty Eight read Shakespeare?"

"Hermione," he supplied.

"I shouldn't have asked." Luna picked up a stone, smooth and darkest purple. She plunked it into the pool, laughing as it splashed Draco slightly, but it did not reach he eyes.

"I hope more people come. I think we all need this, even if we're not quite ready to say it yet. I think our school needs this, if we are to survive. My mother died many years ago, but I can still feel her with me sometimes. Not in a bad way, but a good one. I don't think it's like that for other people; they need to heal so that they can feel the good. Do not let your past haunt you all the time, Draco, or you will never heal. The pain you've endured you will carry with you, but you and only you can define the weight of it. Goodnight. I hope you have better dreams."

Surprising even himself, when she patted him on the shoulder he did not pull away. Twirling her wand in a circular motion she made to leave the room. "Oh, I almost forgot. When you want to leave you just turn your wand in a circle and think about something that makes you happy. Also, me and Ginny are having a birthday party for Hermione next week. It's a surprise, so don't tell her, although she'll probably figure it out anyway and then act surprised to be polite."

"I'll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Luna. I appreciate you talking to me, given our history, you had every right to tell me to sod off and curse me into oblivion."

"Despite what you might think, and what other people may think, you're good company. And it's nice to talk to a boy who isn't Neville. I miss having Harry around, and you both have an honest quality to you that I don't find often. Don't lose it."

She left the room, leaving Draco to stare at the water. As he made to leave the room, he thought about his present for Granger and what her reaction might be. The door swung open instantly.

Author's Note: Hello, again! It seems I was hit with a sudden bought of inspiration. Yes, I do know how many literary references I had in that chapter, and it may have been a little slow and very feeling-centered, which is unlike Draco, but as someone who has suffered through traumatic experiences and isn't very open about how they feel all the time I think it's important to be honest about how you feel in the moment. When you find people you can talk to and trust, you should open up, if you're read and willing. That's a new concept fir Draco, and I wanted him to be open so that he's more relatable. And I think Luna is a great vehicle for that expression. With Hermione, he's always trying to be his better self, at least at this early stage in his friendship with her. With Luna I feel like he can be more honest. The next chapter will be Ginny and birthday shenanigans. I hope to see you there!

All my love and deepest gratitude for putting up with my ramble, Temperance